Dying
by JustMakeLeftTurns
Summary: "Isn't it beautiful here?" he murmurs. He takes a step closer to the edge, to get a better look. The man beside him moves closer to him. "Death is beautiful, too." Suicide ideation, suicide attempt.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.  
**

OoOoOo

He stands at the edge of one of the many cliffs on his island, gazing at the water below. It reaches desperately towards the rocks, but the rocks refuse to bow, and the water retreats back into itself, only to attempt it again. The sun reflects off of the water, blinding, pretty. He wonders where he would fit into that little scene.

He hears footsteps approach him, cautious. He ignores whoever it is. It can't be someone he knows; when was the last time anyone ever visited _him_? He continues staring at the water, at the rocks – would the waves pull him down and hold him in their cool embrace? Or would they reject him, push him against the rocks, over and over, until he is no more?

He can see the person with him, as the other has moved to his side. He recognizes the blue-violet eyes, the blonde hair, the expressionless face, which is turned towards him – for what? He's unsure. He does not acknowledge the man, focuses his attention, once more, on the scene below. Would the sun caress him so he shone as he drowns? Or would the sun hide behind clouds and make his body look sinister and cold?

"Ísland –"

"Have you ever thought about dying?" he asks, nonchalant. He doesn't care of the other's opinion, just needs a few more minutes to think. The more he thinks, the more easily he can envision his demise.

The man beside him stifles a gasp, takes a wary step closer to him. He does not care. He needs a few more minutes – just a few more. He can already see himself falling, hitting the water, taking his last breath. His heartbeat races. No surprise, there. His people – himself included – love extreme sports. Like cliff jumping. Only, he wouldn't be anywhere near as careful as his people.

"No. I can't say that I have."

Ah, so the man speaks! That puts a dampener on things. Not to mention, there is the possibility of an attempt to stop him, to change his mind. But he's strong. He's determined. And he's been thinking about this for a long time. He's fantasized about his death, and found that it makes him want it so much more.

"Isn't it beautiful here?" he murmurs. He takes a step closer to the edge, to get a better look. The man beside him moves closer to him. "Death is beautiful, too. It'll be peaceful this way, at least. The water will caress me as if I'm its child, straight from the womb. The rocks will hit me, cut me, as a reminder of the pain I'm leaving behind. The sun will blind me, protect me from seeing the unpleasant." He takes another step closer. "Yes. Death is a very beautiful thing."

The man keeps close to him. "Life is a beautiful thing, too. There are people to enjoy it with. There are flowers to garnish the world. The sun emphasizes the smallest critter, the largest mountain, the shape of your face … Death brings nothing but sadness to those living. Death brings you nothing but silence and loneliness."

He doesn't react. Takes another step closer. Kicks a pebble over the side, watches it falling, falling, falling … He feels the man's eyes on him, waiting for any sudden movement.

"Don't do this, brother," the other says. He ignores the man. "At least tell me why. Why would you leave a world where anything is possible, where beauty can be seen everywhere you turn?"

A stroke of anger fills him. His brow furrows, his eyes narrow, his fists clench. "Where there is beauty in life, there is always pain and suffering as well. People turn their backs on you, use you for their own selfish purposes. Forget you even exist. Leave you out of important decisions, instead, make those decisions for you!"

He turns his head to his brother, his voice like acid. "The sun highlights the good, but it hides the bad, the evil, of the world! Evil always triumphs, from a predator catching its prey, to meaningless wars! There's always someone above you, always someone making the orders! I'm not following them anymore! I'm making my own decisions now!"

He returns his gaze to the water below. "And my decision is to leave the evil behind."

He begins to take the last step of his life – the step that will send him over the edge – but another body tackles him to the ground, holds him down. He struggles, the dam of emotions overflowing. He's crying but he's angry, he's scared but he's frustrated. He wants out. He just wants to die.

"Let me go! Let me go!" he yells, over and over. He tires himself out, finally, just cries into his brother's chest. His brother sits them both up, pets his hair, hushes him. He grips the man's shirt in his hands, sobbing, "Let me go. Let me go …"

"I can't do that, brother," the man's calm voice replies. With a start, he realizes that although his brother's voice is calm, he is crying as well – his body shakes as he cries, too.

He pleads softly, yet without much conviction, "Please … just let me go … let me go …"

And his brother repeats, "I can't do that, brother." His brother buries his face in silver hair, inhales deeply, chokes back a sob. "_Never_ … never ask me to do that …"


End file.
